


Hymn

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [29]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Background Character Death, Character Study, Class Differences, Extended Demo Spoilers, Gen, Guards, Princes & Princesses, Revaire, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: A royal guard wanders into the chapel and catches the Princess of Revaire in a compromising situation.
Relationships: Arland Princess (Seven Kingdoms) & Original Character(s)
Series: Decline and Fall [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 2





	Hymn

Normally Alek kept strictly to his patrol routes, and stayed out of any part of the great old castle where he wasn't instructed to be. The battlements and the courtyards were well enough, and even the winding staircases of the parapets didn't bother him much. But the ancient halls echoed with secrets he didn't want to think about, wind whistling in through the narrow windows, its faint moaning audible in any room that stood empty. Alek didn't believe in ghosts, of course. Still, there had to be something, some consequence or other, for an edifice that had seen so much bloodshed.

The great hall of the throne room was, at least, always bustling, even on days when the throne was empty and no one appeared to hear the common man's grievance. It was only when they were empty that the halls of the Old Palace felt so eerie. And nowhere in the palace was emptier than the old chapel. His mother, if she had been there, would have clucked her tongue and admonished that a spiritually empty monarchy would drive the kingdom into despair. He could picture her face and imagine her voice as she said it, if he strained his memory. She would have been equally displeased to find that her only son had found no time for devotional work in over a year.

"But Mama," he would have said, in his own defense, "I have other duties. I have my work, I have my orders, I have my oath to the King. I have to provide for the girls."

He could have easily sank deep into his own memories, if his melancholy hadn't been disrupted by a muffled noise, a cry that hadn't been quite stifled enough to evade the echoes of the empty chapel.

She was sitting on one of the pews nearest to the altar, in the farthest corner of the large, echoing room. Bundled in her cloak and scarf as she was, he hardly recognized her. But the sound was undeniably one of hushed crying, and as he drew slowly closer he could make out her tear-stained face, peeping out between the folds of her wrapping.

"Princess?" he asked, lowering his voice so as not to startle her. "What are you doing here?"

His efforts did not pay off. The Princess sat bolt upright, then leapt to her feet and turned to face him, eyes wide.

"What--"

"It's only me, Your Highness," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

There were dozens of guards in the palace, and she was constantly surrounded by men currying favor. Surely she would not remember him.

She sniffed one more time and, pulling a handkerchief out of her sleeve, dabbed at her blotchy face ineffectually. "I know you," she said, once she'd completed the ritual. "You're Alek, aren't you?"

Alek couldn't help but smile wryly. "I've accompanied Your Highness on a few excursions, yes," he said. "What are you doing here? The palace chapel doesn't hold services."

"I know," she said, smiling self-consciously. "I was counting on it being empty."

The realization lanced through him, and he hastened to retreat. "I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, Princess."

"No, not at all!" she said, putting up her hands, one still clutching the white handkerchief. "I don't-- I don't really want to be alone."

Alek stopped in his tracks, and took a few hesitant steps back towards her. The Princess sat on the empty pew again, dropping down with a heavy sigh.

Patting the empty stone beside her, she said, "Please, have a seat."

He knew he ought to object -- at the very least, he needed to be at attention to perform his job -- but he sat down anyway.

She favored him with a watery smile. "What brings you to the abandoned chapel, guardsman Alek?"

He wondered what answer he should give. The truth was simplest. "I was thinking of my mother," he said, and amended, "My late mother."

Her faint smile collapsed into a frown. "I'm very sorry," she said.

"It was years ago," he said. "We've learned to adjust to life without her."

"'We'?" she asked.

"My sisters and I," said Alek, though he didn't know why he felt so free. "We're four, altogether. I'm second-oldest."

He should not have been sharing his life story with her. She was the Crown Princess of Revaire, not a tavern girl, and besides, hadn't he been meaning to offer her comfort? She was crying when he walked in and interrupted her, and he hadn't even asked her what was wrong. Not that that wouldn't have been equally presumptuous.

"My sister was widowed, last year," explained Verity, through her intermittent sniffing. "Actually, a bit longer, come to think of it. She married abroad, through the Seven-Week Summit. Like me." She sniffed again and tried for a wobbly smile.

Alek just watched and listened, without so much as nodding his head.

"Just as we are supposed to do," Verity went on, "and so I haven't seen my sister in--" she counted quickly on her fingers-- "almost nine years."

Now Alek nodded, slowly. "I can't imagine being separated from my sisters for so long."

"She was supposed to be a part of the Corvali diplomatic delegation," Verity explained. "At least, that was what all the rumors and gossip insisted on. I asked-- I have several sources. I had it on good authority that, now she's widowed, the Empress of Corval wished her to take a more active part on behalf of the imperial family." She sniffed again and wiped her eyes on the handkerchief. "I had been so looking forward to seeing her. Who knows when we might get another opportunity like this?"

"I'm so sorry," said Alek, with impossible earnestness, clasping his hands before him.

Verity waved a hand. "Don't be," she said. "We were raised to it. We knew this would happen, from the first. And you've been ever so kind, listening to me ramble on and on about my problems. There is really no one else I can talk to about this, you see."

It was an awful thought. Alek came home every night and talked to his sisters about everything that had happened during the day, save for the things he had to conceal from them, for their safety. He couldn't imagine what it might be like to keep all that bottled up. It seemed unfair that such a thing should happen to Princess Verity, the only one of Revaire's royal family who was truly kind, even to the guardsmen and the maids. He and Lucine had forbidden the younger girls from working as maids in the palace, even though the pay was unparalleled. He did not want them taking on the risk.

When he realized that he hadn't spoken for some time, he covered up his awkwardness by reaching into his pouch and offering her a dry, clean handkerchief of his own, in place of the one she had already dampened.

"Thank you, Guardsman Alek," said the Princess. "You're too kind."

"Your Highness is gracious," he replied.

It was the only proper form, and he was certain he'd already committed an unforgivable number of improprieties, just by sitting down in the presence of a royal personage. Tanner would give him hell, if he ever learned of it.

"Do you have a surname, Alek?" asked the Princess.

He balked.

Her smile this time was less wobbly, less damp. "Don't worry, I'm not plotting to lodge a complaint against you with your superiors. It just occurred to me that my calling you _Guardsman Alek_ was a bit silly."

"Her Highness is free to call me what she will," he said primly.

"I'd quite like your surname, if you have one," she replied, with all the gentleness of manner for which she'd become known.

"Faye, Your Highness."

Princess Verity stood up again, and brushed at her skirts fruitlessly before turning to him and saying, "Well, guardsman Alek Faye. Thank you very much for your attentive listening. It was kind of you to spare the time, and I shan't forget it."

He jumped to attention. "Your Highness."

She folded his handkerchief with excessive care and tucked it into her reticule, before turning with an airy swirl of her skirts and floating out of the chapel. Alek couldn't help but watch her go. Once she'd disappeared behind a turn of the corridor, he sighed, and began to think of when his next watch was, and whether he had time to stop in the mess for something to eat before then. It was then that he caught a pale blotch at the corner of his eye. He bent down to pick it up.

The Princess had dropped her handkerchief. Somehow, neither of them had noticed it at the time. Surely if he'd noticed, he would have picked it up for her. That was what was done, even if touching something that belonged to such an illustrious personage was rather awkward for an ordinary boy like Alek. He turned the little scrap of linen over in his hands. It was stark white, and finer than any piece of fabric he had ever touched, edged in cobweb-fine lace. On one side was embroidered a swan in silhouette, white on white. Even someone like Alek knew enough heraldry to know that the white swan was the heraldic beast of Arland.

He knew he ought to take it to the palace laundry, and from there is would find its way back to the Princess's maids. It could probably wait until after he'd had a bite to eat. If she'd needed it so badly, she might not have lost it to begin with, and maybe it was only fair. After all, she had left with his handkerchief, and now he had one of hers.


End file.
